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We separate, gulping for breath, and my moan rings in the air when he hides his face in the crook of my shoulder, my thighs clamping around him as he drives his cock into me, bringing me closer to the point of no return.
He hisses when I cut my nails on his nape, the pleasure consuming me, yet the possessive part of me I never knew rises. The words spill before I can stop them. “And you’re mine, Octavius.” A ripple shakes him. “You belong to me too.” His grip on me becomes almost painful, and he speeds up his pace, his thrusts growing deeper and harder as he enters me over and over again while tickling sensations wash over me in waves, so powerful and strong it’s impossible to resist them. “Mine and no one else’s,” I whisper into his ear, and a sob escapes me when he becomes rougher. With each drive of his hips, he pushes me toward the building pressure, my core clenching around him several times, and finally, I pull at his hair again, catching his mouth so no one else would hear me scream.
Even the sounds I make only belong to him.
I shatter in his arms, my core squeezing him so hard. He groans but continues to own me in the most primal of ways for several more thrusts, and a tremor rushes through both of us when he comes.
I hug him close, breathing him in and savoring this feeling of belonging as the world around us finally and unfortunately stops spinning, the reality penetrating.
My legs drop on the floor as we both catch our breaths, and Octavius steps back, letting coldness slip between us, and I tense, remembering how cruel he had been the last time.
He traps my chin between his fingers and raises it, pressing his lips to mine in a light kiss that echoes our lovemaking. “You’re mine.” I sigh because these words should scare me, yet they reassure me instead. “God help you,” he mutters, and I frown but have no time to dwell on it much since he puts his shirt back on and zips his pants. “Stay here. I’ll go find a jacket to cover you up and then take you home.” I don’t even get the chance to protest because he’s gone in a minute, leaving me alone while I shake my head, too shocked to process everything.
The past twenty-four hours have been the most hectic, bizarre, and exciting in my life, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.
I adjust my dress, grateful it hides the fact that I’m not wearing any panties.
Someone knocks on the door, and I open it, blinking when I see a maid standing on the other side holding my phone. “Miss Cortez asked me to give this to you.”
“Thank you!” I grab it and close the door. I can’t believe I forgot about my phone during all this.
I freeze when I see a message flashing on the display and open it, my stomach flipping.
Consider it a gift, pretty little thing.
With trembling fingers, I click on the attached video in the message, and my brow furrows when I see black-and-white images that quickly change to a young man stabbing someone over and over again.
A scream echoes in the office, and it takes me a second to realize it’s emerging from my throat. I cover my mouth while I watch in horror as Octavius kills a man.
Brutally. Viciously.
Blood. So much blood everywhere.
And then his friends cover up the body and clean up the crime scene.
Oh my God.
He’s a murderer, and they helped him cover it up.
Another message pops up.
I always know how to hurt you.
What am I going to do?
Now everything about them, him, and us makes sense.
A man who is just like the Church Killer. Was this part of their twisted game?
To make me addicted to a…murderer?
How could I have been so stupid?
With my trembling hands, I dial a number, and on the second ring, a gruff voice speaks into it. “Yes?”
“Agent Noah?” I ask, swallowing past the bile in my throat. I’m about to tell a federal agent about my new discovery despite everything inside me urging me to stop, but I can’t.
As a police officer, I used to catch murderers. How can I stay quiet and not do the right thing now?
